


Whose Puppet Are You?

by Sukila



Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Game), Hello Charlotte (Video Games)
Genre: All aboard the feels- I mean insanity train, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anri doesn't matter, Burn the Oracle virus, But it's soap, Drug Withdrawal, Felix and Scarlett are friends fite me, Fix-It of Sorts, Hello Charlotte EP3, I Don't Even Know, I like the ending but it's kinda dumb, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Spoilers, Spoilers for HC3, V19 mcfricking loses it and then doesn't matter, White Flu, You'll know if you have White Flu if:, because it's Hello Charlotte, but just a bit, this is a bit of a mess, which is brought up in-universe, you can’t read this message, you don’t respond to any stimuli, you’ve lost your colour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukila/pseuds/Sukila
Summary: Felix noticed. He didn’t want it to be his problem, didn’t want to bother with the delusional girl as she hunted her prey, but… Her hands were shaking, she finally looked at them, gawking as though scared of what she saw, he spotted them, the pigment spots, the silver strands weaving through a red bun, how she wobbled in an unnatural manner, like she couldn’t see.Tears pricked in Scarlett’s eyes, she leaned over more, pressing her palms to her eyes and biting her lip hard enough to make it bleed, like she was trying so hard not to scream. She’d slept three days...but for such rapid progression to take place was concerning. His hand on her shoulder, the flinch that made him pull away, a mistake considering how quickly she lunged for his hand.“I have to find Wiltshire! I have to! Have to. Have to.”The panicked look faded back into a cool apathy, her eyes lost their silver sheen, lightening slightly. He took her hand and she didn’t respond for a long time, tugging but unable to go, she slid to the floor and began to cry.“It hurts…” It seemed like Scarlett for the first time that hour, she caught his eyes in a desperate sort of frown, fearful and pleading, “I’m scared…”





	Whose Puppet Are You?

It was something otherworldly...everything seemed to be, as of late. But her squeamishness over the unrecognisable would have to end if she wanted to find _her._ It was why she was stepping forward, why she was scarcely considering the idea she hadn’t remembered conjuring herself. It felt like back when she was a tulpa, only different, like she was waiting on standby rather than taking what Charles had made of her.

 

His fears. His subconscious self-hatred. His lack of motivation to do anything but hobbyist writing. These were things he’d told her to get rid of when he accidentally created her, she’s adopted his reasoning, if only because she wasn’t sure of what else to do. She became what he wanted, a vindictive, cruel, truly awful person, and then took the blame for everything, even when she finally felt the fog clear.

 

It was like going back in time, waking up in the false realm that was Charles’ mind. A flashback to when she was a young and impressionable, wholly imaginary figure, who tried to hold ‘her brother’s’ hand only to be shoved away. Who had tried to suggest better ways to cope than beating his head against the wall, who had looked to him for support as she’d tried to give it in return and received nothing.

 

Because, despite her limitations, Scarlett Eyler was a person he’d made and never taken responsibility for, claiming until the very end that she was simply his shadow (it hurt, wounded her so badly, he would never understand why).

 

Charlotte Wiltshire called him ‘Father.’ Maybe because he was the god of the world they lived in, maybe because she was his most beloved creation. But, back in reality, he’d only ever had one, one that cared so deeply, adopting the persona he wanted for her and trying, just _trying_ to keep him alive as the day he chose to die approached.

 

She had failed him, and Wiltshire had taken her place, hadn’t she?

 

Still, she’d tried to off the girl for it, because it was what he asked, because she had thought he was in pain and didn’t dare cause more by sticking around.

 

Yes, Wiltshire had replaced her.

 

But that wasn’t the reason she was going, it was an itch in her brain, one that shot down her refusals and urged her forwards. Made her feel lost to the world, blurring her vision and bringing an endless pulsating mass of stress that rocked itself against her skull when she tried to say now; hard enough to make her flinch.

 

Felix noticed. Saw the odd hunch of her form, like she was tired, the eagerness despite it, and caught mutters between winces of pain.

 

“I have to find Wiltshire. I have to find Wiltshire. I have to-”

 

He didn’t want it to be his problem, didn’t want to bother with the delusional girl as she hunted her prey, but…

 

“I have to be a good girl. To be loved I can’t make mistakes. Trying so hard. Find her. Find her.”

 

Her hands were shaking, she finally looked at them, gawking as though scared of what she saw, he spotted them, the pigment spots, the silver strands weaving through a red bun, how she wobbled in an unnatural manner, like she couldn’t see.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Charles. I promise I’ll fix it. Please forgive me, please don’t hate me anymore…”

 

Tears pricked in Scarlett’s eyes, she leaned over more, pressing her palms to her eyes and biting her lip hard enough to make it bleed, like she was trying so hard not to scream. She’d slept three days...but for such rapid progression to take place was concerning. His hand on her shoulder, the flinch that made him pull away, a mistake considering how quickly she lunged for his hand.

 

“I have to find Wiltshire! I have to! Have to. Have to.”

 

The panicked look faded back into a cool apathy, her eyes lost their silver sheen, lightening slightly. He took her hand and she didn’t respond for a long time, tugging but unable to go, she slid to the floor and began to cry.

 

“It _hurts…”_ It seemed like Scarlett for the first time that hour, she caught his eyes in a desperate sort of frown, fearful and pleading, “I’m _scared…”_

 

Charlotte had never acted like Scarlett was, it wasn’t something he had much experience in-

 

_A lie, he knew her sobbing like he knew his own, coming down from a high of soap, vomiting through withdrawals, but refusing to be stupid any longer, lest his short-lived purpose be a complete waste. Bennett had looked at him like he was crazy, not for refusing the soap, but at the liquid pouring down his cheeks as he broke. The blonde was ushered from the room by Florence a few moments later, and he reluctantly fell in line with her coos and was comforted like a child._

 

-but, at the very least, he knew that parasite was going nowhere near her. The flu may kill her if she didn’t obey, but more fuel for the flames destroying her mind were something unnecessarily cruel. So, instead, they began their expedition of the next floor, moving quickly and not even stopping between their searches (even if he grew more and more tired with each step).

 

They found a Charlotte taking up the core of a cluster of word people, the transmitter for their combined language, and the glue that held their bodies together.

 

She told him about the Charlotte in a tank that she and Florence had seen, nothing left but brainwaves and a melted body, she, too, was called ‘Oracle.’

 

Bennett came along, and they discovered a Charlotte deep underground, named ‘Eden,’ and providing herself as an unliving shelter for a society, nothing left but a shell.

 

Each time Scarlett grew sadder, and him, more confused, after all, the Charlotte from his floor would’ve never done something like this.

 

“Seth…” He looked over at Scarlett, she was talking to no one, “I’ll leave the decision to you, okay? I...I can’t think…” She was clutching her head again, hair nearly all white, skin a deathly pale, and eyes turned already; it was odd though, why did she look so much younger?

 

Her realisation came with a bolt upright in shock, hands still grasping a strand of discoloured hair, “I can’t remember the True Realm, Seth!” She turned to Felix, easily showing her emotions via a terrified expression, she looked to and fro for a moment, completely unsure as she began pulling at her scalp, the more brittle hairs falling out completely.

 

“I’m...I’m forgetting Charles, what I did to him- Need to find her- I- I- What’s happening to me?!” She begged for an answer, pulling harsher, feet planted on the ground as she scrunched up until her legs gave out. Scarlett knelt, now, arms moving to support her as she breathed harsher and harsher, keeping her gaze to the floor.

 

A nervous breakdown, just like then, recognisable as his own panic.

 

LEAVE ALONE             GO WITH FELIX

 

“Scarlett...please don’t try to go by yourself…”

 

**GO WITH FELIX**

 

“Seth…” She sighs, looking pointedly at her companion as they stood before the elevator, “I can’t ask that. I- I shouldn’t- I…”

 

The realisation hits, “You...want me to go with you.”

 

She jolts, “I… Nobody else would, I can’t ask that of Florence or Bennett, or even you. We’re not friends, you don’t know me, I...I deserve to be alone, but-”

 

“You’re scared.”

 

The nod is solemn, as though she’s ashamed, white bangs bobbing with the motion where they hung out from her bun, “But I _have_ to find her… I _have_ to- Have to- Have to…”

 

“Because of the pain?”

 

She averted her gaze, “If I don’t listen, it’ll take my autonomy, this disease… So I have to seek her out myself, and I have to know _why.”_

 

He can’t understand her, not for the life of him, “What do you mean ‘why?’”

 

Scarlett starts to cry again, wiping at her fast in a quick motion but unable to purge the flow, “She was crying, she was a murderer, she was...waiting for me to find her… I’m- I’m missing something, something she knows and I don’t.”

 

“It’s funny…” She isn’t laughing, remaining unhysterical despite herself, “I should hate her...but those other Charlottes… It felt like none of them deserved what they got, like they were different. Maybe that’s why…”

 

He calls the elevator, “Let’s go.”

 

She’s startled by it, hesitating for a moment before taking the offered hand, “I… Thank you, Mr. Honikker.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” he answered, waving a hand in dismissal, “Not that there will be anyone to tell, no one ever seems to return from this floor…”

 

“...I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be, it was my decision-” And he was going to die anyway, “-Just don’t keel over before we get there.”

 

She smiles, something bright, bold, and blinding, missing the malicious intent and cold emptiness to his floor’s Charlotte, and more akin to that of Eden’s. He’d never admit it but, it was something he didn’t want to forget, just like the grip on her hand on his gloved one, and shining sliver of silver in her eyes; a barely visible leftover, like the blood red strands scattered amongst her hair. It was unlike him but...he found himself smiling, just a little, not a grin or a smirk but a genuine flutter at the thought of not dying alone.

 

“Maybe you don’t think so, but…” She says, after a long period of silence, wrenching him from his thoughts, “You’re my friend…!” Scarlett states, matter-of-factly, almost like a child if not for her tired eyes, showing off that beaming face again.

 

It’s… He won’t deny it’s a nice feeling, but it seems so unlike the somewhat cynical, teenage girl. She seems shorter, or perhaps her hair is longer than he recalled, either way it seemed to be an unintentional product of the disease. He wondered if the absent mindedness and loss of memories had something to do with the childish cheerfulness as they practically stared death in the face. But once again, he couldn’t deny that he didn’t mind, so used to Charlotte’s bothersome, outright cruel pranks, and inconsiderate nature. As well as the general feel of the first floor being either cold apathy from a role model, or bubbly lies from workers, it was a change of pace he could appreciate, and he didn’t regret leaving to die elsewhere.

 

“I…” The elevator stopped, interrupting the gentle silence, shuddering as it reached the top with a quiet _thunk!_ It was...a monstrous sight, but one that fascinated him instantly, even as Scarlett’s shaking became more noticeable.

 

Charlotte Wiltshire pranced forwards, a smile on her face as she approached, her face scabbed as though she was burned, “Scarlett Eyler,” she said simply, “So you came.”

 

Scarlett stepped back, “You’re...not her.”

 

“Hm? I didn’t expect you to notice, you’re so tiny and dumb, now...” The lookalike said, “Just a mere vessel, like all of us! Mother’s perfect villain for a confrontation-” Her look sharpened but her eerie smile didn’t fade, “-but you’ll be needing the traits of a hero, won’t you?”

 

“I… No, I don’t know you. This doesn’t need to happen.”

 

“A little late for that, this is how the story ends, how _my_ story ends,” she claimed.

 

“Just tell me where I can find her, there’s no point in doing this and I don’t want to hurt you!” Scarlett insisted, standing taller, hands clenched into fists; she’d have said there was no quarrel if her mind weren’t so muddled by fog.

 

For the first time, the ‘other Charlotte’ seems startled as the red-haired girl begins to walk past her in search of someone else, “Wait! Mother is supposed to help you! You’re supposed to be enraged! This is how it’s meant to…!” Her eyes lock onto Felix, then back to Scarlett, who she approached and knocks over, leaning over to shout with her hands on the other girl’s neck, “What did you _do?!”_

 

Felix shoves her off, keeping close to Scarlett as the girl before them breaks down, “I...I don’t understand- What did you change?! This isn’t an ending that- You- You’ve changed...the past?”

 

“Get ahold of yourself, what do you mean by ‘what did we change?’”

 

“You’re not supposed to be here…” ‘Charlotte’ whispers, “Mother told me, V19 dies by the hands of Scarlett Eyler, Scarlett Eyler becomes Charlotte Wiltshire, the Oracle- The Oracle!”

 

“I don’t have it!” Scarlett yells, trying to diffuse the situation as ‘Charlotte’ (V19?) muttered nonsense.

 

“...what?!”

 

“She has White Flu, it made her seek out Wiltshire and too weak to become a host,” Felix explained, still shell-shocked as his words came out both apathetically and surprised.

 

“No…” V19 said, stepping back before her legs gave out, “Q84...she...she changed the story…? But...that’s not possible! Maybe she knew of how to keep herself alive, but she can’t just alter someone else’s…!” The Charlotte looked back at the mass of flesh as it groaned, a terrified look in her eye, before standing up and bolting out the nearest exit.

 

Scarlett, still leaning on Felix and holding her throat lightly, coughed, wheezing a little before looking at her friend, “Should we…?”

 

He put a hand to his chin in contemplation, “She could lead us to this ‘Q84,’ she did refer to herself with a name like that so, it’s possible that’s the Wiltshire we’re looking for..”

 

“But what about-” She coughed again, hand speckled with blood as it left her mouth, “What about this thing?”

 

Felix considered the syringe in his pocket, but decided against it, unsure of how it would affect the surrounding areas, “We can deal with it later, once we’re out of this place.”

 

Scarlett nodded, reclaiming his hand and starting up a quick pace, her head throbbed with a messy energy, one that demanded her attention, demanded she find who she sought, still, she couldn’t forget V19’s words…

 

_“...Scarlett Eyler becomes Charlotte Wiltshire…”_

 

_“Q84...she...she changed the story…?_

 

_“...she knew of how to keep herself alive…”_

 

Was that was she was missing? Whatever this ‘Q84,’ knew that made her act the way she did, made her want attention, made her cry as she killed, made her murder people and infect the school? She’d been changing her ‘story,’ to keep herself alive...but what did that even mean? Was she not always such a cruel person?

 

And she couldn’t even begin to fathom the other comments...much less her claim that she was meant to become Wiltshire…

 

Nothing made sense in this realm, not even herself…

 

But as she listened to the gentle rap of their footfalls on the ground as it turned from flesh to dirt, the world seemed to distort that much more. Bringing them before a dark sun that cast off an eerie glow of red as it shined upon a deep pit. She halted her run, lightly tugging Felix along, towards the very edge; she looked down.

 

Infinite blackness she couldn’t seem to stop staring at, almost pulsating as it let off a foul smell, yellow eyes staring at nothing from where they were embedded into the sides, unmoving besides the occasional blink, as though lost in a daydream. She wanted to reach down, to pull up the imaginary person as he held his hand out to her, to reach the people she somehow _knew_ were down there.

 

“We should keep moving…” He said to her, suddenly at her side, she gave a slow nod, carefully prying her eyes away from the sight and setting off for whatever place V19 had ran to, hopefully.

 

She recognised the house instantly, or, the hallway, at least, from her time as a tulpa. Already, though, that bottomless pit they’d run into warned her of the strangeness that may come; regardless of that fact, she found herself approaching her former creator’s room…

 

“...gone too far! Mother gave me the same knowledge as- as _that one,_ because I was _supposed_ to have progressed the story of Scarlett Eyler!”

 

“That is true...we have no idea what is going to happen now that Q84 has altered...well, the past, I suppose… What did you even _do,_ Miss Wiltshire?”

 

Charles, _that_ was Charles, the same one she’s watched die(?), the same one that had resurrected her(?), and given her a task (though a part of her whispered it was meant to kill her, she didn’t care much). The whiteness seemed to have wiped away some things she’d once had, her memories, self-preservation, any amount of confidence in herself she’d once had.

 

She felt clueless. She felt small. But she knew she had to go.

 

“You tell _me,_ you’re the one that put me back in this damn body. I’m not even meant to be here right now!”

 

 **She had to find** **Wiltshire-** _**Charles.**_

 

The door was heavy, at least, to her shaking limbs, full of worry and a shame that ate at her from the inside. It creaked, leaving a long moment of trembling silence as they met eyes with the two girls beside Charles, each holding a distinct familiarity.

 

Felix was the first to speak, oddly enough, “What is happening in this place…?”

 

It took her a few minutes to register the question, much less identify it may have been for her, snapping out of the previous daze. She didn’t respond, though, unable to say anything more in her state of shock, staring at the person she knew from... _somewhere._ He was important to her, and, for some reason, she felt a great nostalgia in seeing him this time, as though last time he wasn’t himself.

 

“Charles…” Came the whisper, alien to the person Scarlett once was with the soft tone it let off, “I...I didn’t do what you wanted…”

 

He looked at her with something like shock, Charlotte at his side, the very person he’d asked her to rid the world of; he said nothing.

 

“I made a mistake…” She choked out, eyes watering with one hand wiping at her face and the other carefully gripping the sleeve of Felix’s lab coat, “...Are you still mad at me?”

 

“Eyler…” Honikker began, almost concerned as he watched her pull at the last of the red strands in her hair; it must have progressed to dangerous levels to cause such an influence…

 

“Wait…” The boy responded, “Is that…?” He asked, looking back at Wiltshire with utter confusion, “But how is she even here?!”

 

“Uh, she took the elevator, isn’t it obvious?” Charlotte nonchalantly replied, pillowing her head with her arms and paying little mind to the, seemingly, drastic event.

 

Charles sighed in response, “So, V19’s concerns were real… But that doesn’t explain…” He cut himself off, facing the still-upset girl before him, “Scarlett Eyler.” She cocked her head in response, and he went on, “What did you mean before...about ‘making a mistake?’”

 

“You told me to stop her. Because if I sabotaged her story...she’d stop corrupting the world. So I took the memories, and showed them to Seth...but nothing was solved…” Scarlett found herself growing somber, stopping to sigh, “And now I can’t remember anymore…”

 

Her voice in her head, scrambling stories and rearranging dates, but unable to push her into what was meant to be, leaving each character trapped amongst the wreckage of a once coherent plot.

 

“He… No, he doesn’t exist…! That bastard _who-”_

 

And there’s nothing they can do, is there?

 

So, when the man comes to confront them, the father is ignored in favour of the true figure. Charles mutters on about unwanted children, she thinks, hearing snippets of broken promises and a lack of meaning in existence.

 

And they put the mother to rest, going back downstairs after setting the scene with salty water and a single, all-encompassing phrase.

 

And when they go back downstairs...nothing is the same.

 

Because...in a world of new gods and without old memories, Scarlett Eyler was able to live on with the only friend she ever made.

 

In a world of ultimate creation and a lack of endings, Felix Honniker found himself no longer chasing the clock.

 

In a world always meant to be reborn and established once more, Charlotte Wiltshire was without an audience, and could make her own story.

 

And, in a world no longer consisting of paper thoughts and cliched words, Charles Eyler found the focus to be much simpler; and he thinks he might just forgive her.

 

It was somewhere without beginnings, somewhere without endings, and...maybe, somewhere filled with soft hues and bright days, lacking the usual darkness illusions promised.

 

Where Seth smiled, as the tulpa took the hand of a white-haired Scarlett Eyler, still high on madness and the recent company of the workers, and an exasperated Mr. Honniker trailed behind, muttering about her mad ramblings (because it was a long trip despite the interesting sights). With the improper Miss Wiltshire keeping her creator company in the place he still found regrets in, on occasion, but walked on regardless (because there didn’t need to be anymore Henrietta Warhols).

 

And maybe, just this once, it was true. There wasn’t a need for any illusions, truths, cruelties, or gods. No need for due dates and death days, for peasants and princesses. Nor any prying eyes to focus on the turmoil.

 

“There’s nothing to be sad about.”

 

ALTERNATE END: HANGMAN’S TRICK


End file.
